My Adult Romantic Tragedy Is Wrong As I Expected
by Oganesson
Summary: Unable to find a happy ending at the end of vol.11, Hachiman rejected both Yukino and Yui's affection. Six years later, well into his 20s, he must face his old loves one more time. Having learned from his past mistakes, Hachiman rethinks about the "genuine thing" he once pursued, and decides to put his forever-lingering and indecisive love triangle to an end.
1. 1 Asunder

Asunder

As many around me recalled, Hikigaya Hachiman during his high school life had once made the declaration denouncing every single human being, living or dead, who worked and cherished friendship. I have now withdrawn that bold claim.

I certainly had the opportunity to save myself from tumbling down this path, however. The genuine thing I always wanted, but never spoken out to anyone, was blatantly simple and possibly even disgusting to quite a few. I wanted to confess to Yukinoshita Yukino. Since the first day we met. She was cold, beautiful, intelligent, and had every reason to feature in every single session of my raging sexual fantasies. My superego did an exceptional job suppressing the id. As a result, the fantasies were gift-wrapped and cocooned inside a believable shell of lies, including putting her name all caps in my "Forbes List Of Most Hated People" (which I later renamed to "favorite waifu list"). Our relationship quickly grew intimate as I peeked more into her private life and feelings. Yukino was another loner, just like myself, desperately wanting company but prevented by shyness and embarrassment.

So I became her companion. I was unaware of this transition in how we saw each other. An extra cup of tea at the end of our daily meetup after Yui left, a light pull on my sleeve in public transit, a bag of cookies at the aquarium, the extended handshakes that ended with our fingers mingled together. I cherished all these moments we spent together, and I was painfully aware of what they suggested.

Then at the Mexican standoff after our three people aquarium "date", I tossed all the affection she had for me into the recycle bin. One can't sell the cow and still drink its milk. I chose the worst of all options, leaving them equally damaged instead of at least staying true to my emotions. I sobbed throughout the lengthy bus ride to home. Yuigahama's attachment was coincidental and one-way, while the warmth I found on Yukino felt addictive and intoxicating.

Later in that evening, when the phone call from Yukino's mother came, the only word I managed to muster was "sorry".

Yukino hated Hayama for his petty arrogance and inaction. Judging by the tones of her wail, I have become Hayama Hayato, Junior.

* * *

A harsh cacophony of falling objects woke me from my second dream of the night. My mouth dry and evil-tasting. How frustrating... Not even the bitterest of espresso could save me now. No, I might have passed out again because of the damn coffee. Yesterday I tried to use cold water to replace coffee beans-continued high dosage of caffeine really did start taking a toll on my heart. The attempt changed nothing though, as the migraine from coffee withdrawal forced me to gulp down more concentrated bitterness out of desperation.

Rubbing my red, partially swollen eyelids, I absentmindedly opened them and glanced at the bottom-right corner of the monitor. Well, that certainly explained why nobody would have bothered waking me at this hour. The only living soul still running this pointless late night marathon. I've become the living legend. My superior played no role in this after-hour endeavour - in fact, my overly sympathetic superior had repeatedly attempted to convince me to get a life beside working. Although there really was little reason for him to care for my well-being, a subordinate dying at workplace would have yielded him more trouble than missing a simple deadline. In fact, I always had a life and I still do, albeit being a monotonous one. My sister called me "succumbing to a terminal-phase crippling depression" and somehow I found my efforts futile to deny such outrageous ridicule.

Judging by the direction of the noise, though, it couldn't have been anyone other than Zaimokuza. The fat corporate slave, also known as a self-proclaimed light novel writer who never managed to get even a page of his garbage harem stories published and always munched on a piece of pizza like a stereotypical yankee.

Having expended my last bit of stamina, I decided to call it a night.

The metropolitan office at night always gave me this surreal sentiment of coziness. Sometimes I found myself mindlessly staring at the white and red strings of traffic passing through the dark streets decorated by distant dots of street lights. Usually in this trance my mind would drift to them again. How was Yukino's life in the United States? Was Miura and Hayama's married life satisfying? Had Hiratsuka sensei found herself a husband? The list of unanswered curiosities would go on, until suddenly the stiff smile and cold tears gliding across my face drag me back to reality. An anonymous feeling always came as an aftertaste to this dreamy state of obscure sorrow, almost like a sudden epiphany. One Saturday I spent five hours scanning through the National Language Dictionary attempting to define it in some rational means but failed.

Opening my frosted glass office door, I casually paced through one of the semi-lit corridors separating the honeycomb like rows of office cells. Almost intuitively I found a grim-looking Zaimokuza sighing while squeezing out of a cell proven to be way too small to accommodate for his over-sized body. Not much of a slick operative, eh?

"Yo, Hachiman, stilll staying up this late?" Zaimokuza threw out a light-hearted greeting, somewhat uncommon for a man of "passion" like him.

"I... got used to that, eventually."

"You know boss wouldn't really complain if you left at five in the evening, though. Always finishing your part early and then take over boss' personal shit, the old man's getting lazier day by day. Anyways, wanna grab a can of MAX at the convenience store downstairs?"

Somehow I found his offer impossible to decline. MAX coffee, I hadn't had one of those in years. Compared to something as strong as espresso, MAX coffee's greasily sweet taste not only failed to keep myself awake during the long hauls, but also brought back some bitter nostalgia. I never wanted to see them. Nevertheless, a part of my body always craved for it like a drug addict in forced detoxification attempting to steal a last sip of cocaine.

The fifty-stories-long elevator ride was surprisingly fast and strangely comforting, unlike the overpopulated cage I had to squeeze into at eight in the morning. Once the door out of the lobby opened, however, chilly winter air poured in. Giving the two of us, clad only in a thin shell of suit and tie, a bad sneeze and a long trail of snot.

"Still not smoking?"

Zaimozuka lit up cigarette offered me one as usual, and once again I declined his kindness with some untimely formal phrases.

It could've been my overworked vision becoming hazy lately, but Zaimokuza's ungloved hands, still raw from the winter chill, were apparently shaking. His eyes, dimly illuminated by the breathing fire at the tip of the cigarette, looked wet.

"Man... Hachiman... You know, I'm.. I'm quitting. The job, I mean. I've had enough of this slavery non-sense, getting barely enough money to fill my mouth with fucking pizza each day. I just... can't stand this anymore. I know how normal it is to... Maybe for you, to cope with this amount of pressure. But I've never been you. Never had your handsome face, never had your two lovely girlfriends plus a harem of four, never even dreamt of your intelligence. " Zaimokuza stabbed the cigarette into his mouth, taking in a deep breath saturated with white smoke.

"You've known me since high school, always the loser in every aspect one could possibly imagine, and probably should've killed myself according to Yukinoshita's standards. I wanted to be an artist, haha. A light novel writer! Jacking off to my characters and my deep dark fantasies! 'Disgusting!', she said. But imagine who gave me a chance when I was born? Was I given an option to live without this obesed, diabetic shell of a body? Never hated her, though. Nobody gets to choose what he or she receives at birth. Yukinoshita was born a snow princess, and you were born a handsome genius. I know who I am, and I'm perfectly aware of what I can do."His voice shaking.

I found myself turning away, facing him with my back. Not wanting to remember the crying face of a once-cheerful comrade.

The last time I met him in person before working at Marconi was still in high school. When I saw that almost chipmunk-like silhouette feasting behind a monitor, I immediately recognized him. Although not as cheerful as before, I still hoped that he could at least somewhat have retained a part of his old self. Today the image I planted so firmly in my head shattered. He had grown into a different entity. Seasoned by the straining workplace saltiness and a mouthful of cold pizza.

"For a year, I've been doing Excel. You got here in autumn, and soon enough got yourself a manager's position. I'm not jealous of you or anything, but maybe my life is just worth a pile of Excel tables. Anyhow, I never, ever had a chance to choose the direction of my life. But now I want something different. I need to choose something that's at least acceptable. For so many years I've been refusing to accept myself, and commit to that one decision that'll shape my life in a way I want. Tomorrow morning, I'm going to quit my job, and keep writing that damn story until one day it gets published. I have faith in myself, at least I know that this is something I am capable of. "Finishing his cigarette with a final inhalation, Zaimokuza tossed the still-burning cigarette butt on the frozen ground and squashed it with the sole of his shoe.

"I sometimes wondered why you work here, though. 16 hours a day and enjoying it like a masochist." He sighed.

"I work here... only to forget a decision I made in the past." I tried to brush it off.

"Still couldn't get over it huh? Abusing your body and psyche to forget that toxic woman? Your headache, it's getting worse now isn't it?"Damn it. This guy always figured out what exactly was on my mind.

"Hey-"

I tried to argue with him, defending the already flawed lie with deceitful language manipulations and some bonus plot holes.

"Don't be too scared of your old scars, Hachiman. People have to make choices sometimes in their lives, and frequently they make mistakes, or even need to let go of something important. Lost things always get mourned, but once you've committed something, you can't go back to the last save like a galgame and then choose the route for the all-happy ending. Don't be too hard on yourself."

He muttered, footsteps sounding more distant with each passing second.

"What about Coffee?"

"Maybe next time."

It was the last time I saw Zaimokuza.

* * *

 _Phew! Finally got the prologue done! Please understand that this is my first attempt to write a fanfic, so my writing could be largely immature. Please excuse the bad English of an astrophysics student..._

 _Since this is about 8man's "adult" story, a sizable portion of it will be "adult" themed as well. I probably need to change the rating from T to M eventually._

 _Please tell me what you like and dislike in the comment, so that I can improve my future chapters! ^_^_


	2. 2 Nodus Tollens

Note: Marconi Electronics and Semens are the placeholder names I assigned to the companies involved in the story. The former is completely unrelated to the Marconi in our world and the latter, well... In the AU Marconi is a semiconductor distributor and Semens makes stuffs you'd find on Siemens product catalog.

 **Nodus Tollens** \- the realization that the plot of your life doesn't make sense to you anymore

"The last batch of analog-digital converter chips we recently delivered had some major defects in their circuitry. The signal-to-noise ratio didn't meet their standards for the use in medical imaging systems." Isaac Clarke, a bald, middle aged man with a lithe body. A pair of frame-less glasses sat squarely on his nose, adding a sense of perseverance to that soft-looking face. He paced around the spacious office of the head of the quality assurance department."Now they're asking for a refund and possibly even end the contract."

"We need somebody to take responsibility." He added, as if such incident would take the entirety of his bank account away. "You know and I know that if things start going south, and our millions of pounds worth of products all get stuck in the warehouse collecting dust, none of us is getting out of this clean.

"Their director had requested you to attend a private meeting this afternoon. Explain the situation. Promise to give the next batch a discount. Do everything to keep them interested. I know this is not technically following the standard procedure, but . Get this done and I'll promote you."

I nodded in silence. To my surprise, he called out just before I reached for the door handle.

"Hikigaya. I'm going back to Britain next month." Clarke pleaded.

"I understand. Just blame it on me and you stay out of this."

The phone on his desk rang. It was my cue to leave.

A typical day of work as a crew expendable.

* * *

Closing the mahogany door behind me, I was immediately welcomed by a symphony of key presses, printers, phone rings and the typical "sorry" of the quality assurance office.

Unlike the quiet honeycomb in the after hours, my workplace on a Friday morning closely resembled a hornet's nest where people bounced around like ants on a hot pan.

On my way back to the tiny "office" granted by Clarke, situated on the opposite end of the room, I passed the familiar spot that once resided a certain novelist. That cell had been empty for over a month following his sudden resignation, and I had come to the assumption that human resources managed to dissipate the "Excel guy"'s duty evenly to those who enjoyed "too much free time".

"Good morning Mr Hikigaya." A sound from Zaimokuza's old spot disturbed me.

Sitting squarely in his chair, there was a skinny young man with medium-length brown hair and the looks of a recent college graduate.

"It's really a pleasure to meet you. My name is Shirogane Takeru, we haven´t formally met yet, so I just wanted to take a brief moment to introduce myself to you in person. " He extended his arm for a handshake, expression stiff as a statue, nervous sweat forming beads across his forehead. His mom possibly forced him to greet me in my least favorite manner possible. Superficial and pretentious.

A thought in my head told me to walk on.

Suppressing my true emotions, I decided to play it by the rules, grasping his hand for a tight handshake in the process. Seems like the HR people weren't as smart as I imagined, after all.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too. Welcome to the team, then."

* * *

My day at work ended right around five, with a couple of message exchanges with Semens's director. Although the tone of the director indicated that he or she must have had some seriously warped sense of humour.

Honestly, who in the world would reply "I really look forward to our dinner, Mr Hikigaya ^^" in a professional, complaint-related conversation. Although its teasing tone did remind of Yukino's somewhat lewd sister who consulted me semi-frequently back in the latter part of my high school.

Yukinoshita Haruno. The name Haruno meant nothing "sunny" to me. (Haruno can be roughly interpreted as "sun" or "sun's") The more established Yukinosista. Ever since I developed these attachments with Yukino, she had been after me for some unforeseeable reasons at the time. Her presence never quite intimidated me as much as Isshiki and Yuigahama alike, though. While I seldom considered Haruno a friend, she possessed some qualities that I sometimes appreciated.

My relationship with my parents was a scarred bond shared purely for the purpose of legal duty and genetic closeness, at least in my point of view. Ever since I could remember, my sister almost became the only child in the household after her birth while my wishes were grossly ignored. Spending days lying alone on a hospital bed fiddling with my phone when the rest of my family lived their usual routine had drained my last drop of attachment with my parents away. Since then I had developed some sort of distorted desire of attachment with women beyond my age, wanting to be taken care of, and to fall asleep in a pair of arms.

This morbid feeling surprisingly surfaced first during the cultural festival, when Yukino fell sick and I completely lost control of the situation as the second-in-command. I dialed Haruno's number on my consent for the first time. Twelve hours later, she single-handedly removed Sagami from her post, re-established my reputation within the committee and ultimately played the role as the conductor as I scratched my head attempting to find one without stretching the budget. It was the evening before the performance, watching her working to finish the last list of required audio equipment, eyes fixed on the paper, occasionally mumbling indistinguishable numbers and words in her mouth. I completely lost it. I fell in a trance. Her image overlapped with my imagination of a mother, instantly triggering my oedipal lust. Having previously experienced her teasing breath at my sensitive ears and freed myself from the last bit of rationality, I ran for the washroom and flushed semen down the drain. Teenagers were weird like that. Wishing for love purer than a vacuum chamber, while thinking like a waste dump.

I enjoyed it, despite unwilling to admit, very much.

I probably betrayed Yukino.

* * *

"Waiting for you in room 11"

A new message popped up on lock screen just as I approached the door of the high-end restaurant. The very person I was apologizing to arrived before me. Bad impression, maybe.

Judging by the look of this place I booked, everywhere inside this building sparkled "yen". A place for those who have lots of free time munching on a Manchu Han Imperal Feast. Terrible choice for a business meeting, doubleplusungood.

Too late to apologize, anyways.

I mustn't fail Clarke. I've promised him.

A slight push on the carved wooden door connecting the private dining room was enough to open it.

A beautiful, well-endowed young woman with jet black hair. Her medium-length hair bobbed with purple dyed tips. Angular, analytic purple eyes pierced my cornea.

It was her.

"Yahallo, Hikigaya kun."

"I'm sorry..."

* * *

 _Sorry guys, it seems like when I'm doing one update per day, I have a 1500 words per chapter limit. As a newbie to fiction writing, but with extensive experience with essays, I find it very difficult to structure long passages. (It's almost a natural instinct to me, shorter essays=more room for errors=less taxing for the marker=better mark) Some have made comments regarding the length of the chapters. Maybe I need to withdraw that promise and work on tripling the length of each chapter, while increasing the resolution and fidelity of characters and their conversation._

 _I want to name the chapters with words I find on the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, but if you think they're not cool, tell me and I'll change the names to chapter 1, chapter 2, etc._

 _Next chapter, this story arc will finally open up, as 8man must face the interrogation of a cold Haruno and his past at the same time._

 _BTW, as you can see, some parts of this fanfic are a bit "dirty", so do you think it's necessary to change the rating? Please tell me in the comments._

 _Next update probably around Thanksgiving. Physics midterm is on October 20, so updates will slow down again around that time._

 _*As an AU, the events at the cultural festival are different from the events in canon. So from that point on, this world line is completely detached from the original novel._


	3. 3 Nodus Tollens-Continued

_Alright, I admit I never wanted to leave it hanging like that. Ran out of creativity trying to imagine what'd happen next._

 _So technically this is still chapter 1._

 _Yes, poor Isaac is the same guy from Dead Space, they even look identical. But he's now a business man eager to stay out of unwanted trouble._

 _Also, a comment asking about the authenticity of the whole 8man's relationship with his family made me want to clarify my true intention of this story. The narration, remember, is made by 8man in the story. We are part of his mind listening to what he CHOOSES to say and what he WANTS to believe. For example, his family could've been busy working while 8man was hospitalized, giving him the false impression of being abandoned, and therefore the insecurity. Or, he may have had this whole Oedipus complex ever since his early life, but needed a convenient a excuse to justify his fantasies. Haruno's physical intimacy (remember what happened in the original story) and teasing probably aroused 8man, leading to the latter's teenage imagination running wild. He may not have been that dense after all, but he surely was a perfectionist, at least back in the old days._

 _Anyways, a realistic story told by someone is usually like an imaginary number in the form "abi", where "a" is in the set of all reals and "bi" is the imaginary part. Almost everybody, when asked to tell their personal experience, would take a part of real experience and dramatically modify it into something they want others to hear, thus creating the imaginary part of the story. There is this proverb in Chinese that I heard a lot as I grew up_ _, "一千个人眼中就有一千个哈姆雷特" (literally: There are a thousand Hamlets in a thousand people's eyes), and I'm trying to leave space for everyone to interpret the events in the story to their liking. I hope this fanfic could somewhat reproduce that layer of uncertainty and possibly become more interesting than a pulp love story between 8man and Yukinosista ^_^_

* * *

"Long time no see, Hikigaya kun~ Since when have you become such a grown man?" Still her old teasing tone. Playful but lacking the attenuated hint of warmth that was present her voice years ago.

Haruno's face, probably one of the greatest mysteries of the world. A slight spasm of a muscle beneath the skin of her right temple gave her true heart away, nevertheless. Her right eyebrow would sometimes twitch under distress. Reading people's subtle shifts in expression had always been one of my greatest fortes.

Sorrow. Desperation. They probably would serve the most accurate approximation of her current emotional state. Against someone like her, I should have always kept my guard up and stayed alert to play the emotional hide and seek game. But I really wasn't in the mood.

I had perfect knowledge of how much I have damaged the family of hers. Imagine witnessing your sister stumbling through the door, weeping, crying out the name of someone you've once helped. The feeling was alien, to me at least, since I truthfully had zero experience playing the role of an active member of the family.

Not wanting to worsen the already frozen atmosphere, I quietly stepped inside, shutting the door behind me.

Unbuttoning my suit, I positioned myself on the other side of the table.

Rather than starting our already-awkward conversation with a half-baked question, I chose to relax as the chair cushion supported my body weight and remained silent.

"Woah, how indifferent are you! Or maybe you've already forgotten my name through your lengthy solitude? Come on, Hiccups, even if you've no idea who I am, you couldn't possibly forget Yukinoshita Yukino, right?" Her pronunciation, at the mention of Yukino's name, sounded dark. You forgot to put your mask on today, princess.

This probably went too far. Before I could manage to at least secure the purchase contract for the next batch of semiconductors, though, I wouldn't want to lie on the floor, oozing blood.

"No, Haruno. You've left me an impression so deep that not even lobotomy could take it away."

The devil with a thousand faces, the masks so perfect that none could see through. It was the impression I received when she first appeared in that shopping mall, just before Yuigahama's birthday. I grew obsessed in attempting to expose her "true self" behind the unapproachable exoskeleton. But after the years I've known Haruno, it became progressively evident that my assumption was flawed to begin with. Although known for her cruelty, one cannot simply presume her to be incapable of warmth. The electron orbitals. I ultimately found this pretty accurate analogy after extended interaction with her. All of the thousands of facades were "snapshots" of her personality, and as a whole, could only be described as a combination of the snapshots. The ice-cold eyes, the playful grin, the furrowed brows, were all equally authentic portrayals of her.

"It seems like your memory is still intact. Well, of course, I'm the sister of the girl whom you abandoned six years ago, after all." Great. She specifically requested my presence simply to jab me with whatever negativity that still haunted her. How disappointing, coming from such a ruthless, sadistic monster she was. Well, I hope it happened that way, maybe in my dream.

"Don't use the word "abandon" to justify my actions. Please. You can't use cruelty to describe paranoia! I mean, think about that, had she given me one more chance. I could've-"

"Yeah, totally, the kind of shady, merciless business, of course you couldn't do it! Our great, tender,lovely, charming lady killer Hikigaya kun. How could he possibly have done something so terrible?" A brilliant smile stacked on top of her face. Beautiful, carefully practiced, something one would only expect on a painting. Despite having rather questionable charming effects on me, it also managed to send a wave of bone chilling shiver down my spine. Imagine a the mental activity a pigeon would undergo when it discovered that it had been targeted by a starving falcon.

"Alright, since you've always been so tender to everyone around you, maybe you should consider remaining so during what is about to happen."She chuckled, while pushing a closed folder across the table and watching me as if I was about to wet my pants.

Opening the cover, I took a glance at the contents inside.

Unsurprisingly, asking for a refund. Now what about the next order?

"So... Um... Have you happened to locate another provider?" This part was the key. I wanted to keep my job, and in order to secure my post, I would need a nod from old Isaac first.

"That totally depends on your attitude, Hikigaya-kun~" She put up an intrigued face, leaning forward.

"Sixty-five percent discount on your next order, give or take. Or do you want more and make me lose my job, happy?" Deciding to throw all my eggs in one basket, I went straight for the kill.

Now she looked amused.

"Hahaha, Hiccups, I've never imagined you could be so dense at understanding hidden implications! Although I must admit that it looked rather adorable when you've finally found your name on the list of expendable personnel, and were about to break down in tears."Face-palming, she let out an euphoric laughter. "Your boss, his name is Isaac Clarke, am I right? Say, Hikigaya, have you ever looked into why the converter chips were defective in the first place?"

"So? Does who my superior is really play a role in the process? I'm just here to ask you the question:sixty-five percent, deal or no deal! And I'm sure that you know damn well about went wrong with the semiconductors anyways. I just got diagnosed with fucking crippling depression last week, now you have your revenge, feelsgood?" Tired of playing the hide-and-seek game, and possibly exhausted from the psychological stress since Zaimokuza's disappearance, I cracked.

Realizing my time here was over, I reached for the door. Great. My sudden outburst left her jaw hanging open, maybe that was the greatest thing I've ever achieved in my life.

"Wait! Hold on. You're the first person I've ever encountered or even heard of who dared to spam profanity in the face of senior management. Haha, never failed to amuse me." She held onto my wrist with an iron grasp, preventing me from further withdrawing. "The serial numbers in this order had some odd gaps and discontinuities, and turned out that some of them had a different architecture than the A/D converters designed to be used in magnetic resonance scanners. Obviously Marconi's fab didn't make them. So after some digging, I've noticed that this Isaac Clarke had a small fab in China, operated by some of his relatives. It went close to bankruptcy around last October, so he had every reason to lend them a helping hand, using the convenience his job provided."

She removed her fingers, pale from the pressure, from my wrist, leaving a red ring on the skin.

"Knowing how selfless you were when you saved Yuigahama's dog and the chaos at the cultural fest, it's rather predictable that you would take the blame for him. Leaving your job with a dark spot on resume is the best possible scenario."

"So why are you telling me this? Expose him and get a bounty from headquarters? Come on, they have every reason to ignore a claim from a nameless small fry. Also, even if I do get away after reporting him, there will be plenty of people wanting to put a hole through my head."Defeated, and in a state of post-anger depression, I lightheartedly responded, staring blankly at the table.

"I came here to make two offers: First, Marconi will get the contract for the next order, and I'm happy to pay full the price. Second, you will tell Clarke that you are willing to take the blame and resign, and I will unconditionally recruit you. This way, the whole incident becomes an operational error, Isaac gets away with probably just a warning from the headquarters, and ashamed by what he had done to you, he would let the whole thing slip and leave you a positive review on the resume. He takes negligible consequences, and I get what I wanted, too." She sounded almost genuine, well, not so much when I could nearly sense that dark aura around her body and that victorious smile of a predatory carnivore.

"Huh? Are you serious about that? Or rather, how did you come up with this idea, lending a helping hand to your enemy? Actually, I'm quite curious about that." Completely unexpected development. Employee poaching? Simple revenge?

"Ah, the answer is very simple. You're the culprit who made me unable able to see Yukino chan for six years, after all. Now there's a perfect opportunity to get you under my control, and you owe me a huge favor. How could I possibly leave you unaffected?" That sounded justifiable. Just wanted vengeance? Although I had difficulty understanding the latter part. Her decision to hire me, someone who supposedly lost his employer over a million pound of revenue.

"And what made you think that I am obliged to comply?"

"You don't have to. But you will. And trust me, deep down in your subconsciousness, you want to be punished, in order to free yourself from the past that tortured you."

"I tried to forget. I tried to convince myself that this was all the teenage impulse's fault. But six years? Six Years! My sister hadn't spoken a single word to me for two thousand days! Do you honestly think something as shallow as immature breakup can keep her on another continent alone for so long? Anybody in her sane mind wouldn't!"

Her sclera bloodshot and wet. Voice coarse from possibly dehydration. I've seen the same expression on Zaimokuza before we parted ways. The face you would only see on someone about to shoot Niagara in a barrel.

I was scared. It was one of the very, very few moments in my nearly twenty-four years of life when I truly became terrified. I had no idea how deep it went, and how much that simple uncertainty tore this family apart. I no longer dared to look at her in the eyes. A part of me wanted to do something, at least the littlest thing that would comfort her. I could blame this on myself, or might as well blame it on Yuigahama, but if a 'sorry' could undo all the damage done, there wouldn't be hundreds of people lining up in front of firing squads everyday.

We ultimately broke out of the silent trance when the waiter knocked on the door, signaling the time to take order for the main course.

* * *

Hilariously enough, Haruno and I both drank a solid amount of alcoholic beverage that night, while she gulped down fourteen shots of vodka and ended up suffering from a much more acute ethanol poisoning effect than me.

By the time Haruno had satisfied her insatiable thirst for drunkenness, she was drifting in and out of consciousness. Aha! My perfect opportunity to leave her knocked out senseless so I could get away unscathed, report Clarke and possibly run to somewhere nobody who'd ever heard of my name couldn't locate.

Then I gave myself a clean slap across the face. She was absolutely spot on, after all. Be it Haruno, or even Isaac, I couldn't possibly bring myself to hurt any of them. I'd fucking murder myself if something happened to her tonight in my absence.

Having no idea where she lived, my only option left was to somehow transport her to my apartment. In metropolitan Tokyo, where sexual harassment laws are absurd to the point that staring at a certain body part could get someone a jail sentence, assisting a drunk female home would almost be asking for trouble. I had to take the risk, regardless. Calling an ambulance would certainly make the news of "Semens director loses consciousness after alcohol abuse" spread like wildfire, and although I was in no position to take responsibility, I understood what consequences she must face if that occurred.

Gently picking her up from the chair, she seemed to have come to her senses for a brief while.

"Hachi…where…"

"We're going home, alright? Just hang in there." I assured, although not having much confidence.

First, I'd have to get her out of the closing restaurant without having anyone recognizing. I threw her left arm on top of my left shoulder, while encircling her back with my right arm. To an outsider this looked like a relatively sober person escorting his probably less conscious girlfriend, and most people wouldn't get too touchy seeing that I was perfectly conscious. Then, I must hide her face from possible onlookers, since the Semens building stood only a couple hundred meters away. Although much shorter than Yukino's, her hair surely could cover most of her face if it was messy enough. Pulling a few black strands from behind her ears, just enough to distract people's attention elsewhere, the second step was done with ease.

Giving her a few light slaps on the face, and hopefully it would keep her awake for some more time.

"Haruno, can you walk?" I inquired, patting the right side of her thigh.

She did manage to hum and move her feet somewhat. Although far from being capable of autonomous locomotion, it should do enough to convince the restaurant staffs that she was still somewhat able of movement, therefore sufficiently conscious to leave without giving them trouble, and more importantly, liability.

Slowly shifting her weight to my legs, I used my one free hand to opened the door. A waiter approached us and asked about her status, I convinced him that she just needed to breathe some fresh air. Despite being slightly skeptical, the waiter left, not wanting further involvement in trouble. All of my strategies had worked as intended.

Stumbling through the entrance did not pose too much of an obstacle. In the end, the restaurant was closing and a handful of people were leaving at the same time, drunk and sober. We managed to blend in quite well and get through largely unnoticed.

My apartment was "only" five kilometers away, but at that distance carrying her back on foot was obviously out of consideration. No bus drivers would sanely allow a pair of rather intoxicated individuals aboard a late-night shift. The convenient part about living in a city, though, is that taxi drivers would do almost anything you tell them to, provided that you had enough cash on hand.

I hadn't used Uber too much, and always preferred public transit simply due to the cost of it. Well, I clearly had no option this time. With this amount of ethanol in her digestive tract, vomiting was blatantly a matter of time. Instead of leaving her to puke in the public, I would very much prefer containing it in private to prevent causing massive embarrassment.

It only took the taxi driver five minutes to arrive on scene, but the guy was evidently turned down by seeing her in such a disabled state, possibly fearing that she might release some undesirable substance inside the cabin. Only for a short bit, though. His blabbering mouth immediately went quiet and had a 180-degree turnaround in attitude once I stuffed everything summed up in my wallet, which was about 80000 yen, into his hand.

As a last ditch effort to save her from having motion sickness during the ride, I extended a hand to hold her cheeks to prevent her head from bouncing around too much. The driver finished his job in just under 3 minutes, speeding all the way into the neighborhood. After repeatedly apologizing to the driver and reassuring him that she left nothing unwanted behind, I carried her fifty-something kilograms of body, stuffed with alcohol and food, horizontally in my arms, up the stairs. In fact, I wished that I had the strength to move her around like how the protagonists picked up dead bodies in Assassin's Creed-over their right shoulder like a garbage bag, so if she happened to vomit, all of it would drip to the ground instead of ruining my sixty-thousand yen suit.

* * *

Just as I got to the door, positioned Haruno's limp form upright against the wall and reached down into the pockets for the key, nevertheless, she decided to have her revenge and after a bit of gurgling, puked right into me. My mouth,face, suit, and the shirt inside, all filled with vomit that tasted and smelled not dissimilar semi-digested food and vodka.

Once inside, in my haste of getting into something dry, I made a terrible mistake. I left her lying upright on the couch. The next time I found her, after a few minutes, was when I heard the sound of choking. She must have had vomited again unconsciously, while not in recovery position.

Prying her mouth open, I pulled out most of the vomit under and around the tongue. Judging by her muffled sound of coughs, however, some of it must have entered her windpipe. Possibly as the result of desperation, the long-forgotten first aid knowledge that I've once learned in middle school came magically back into my mind. I immediately pulled her up, positioned myself against her back and encircled her stomach with my arms. I placed my fisted right hand just above her bellybutton and grasped it with the left, then with a sudden jerk, squeezed her stomach inward with considerable strength. Heimlich Maneuver. Small quantities of vomit trickled down her chin following each attempt. Fortunately, after a few thrusts in the abdomen, her breathing resumed, and the crimson hue on her face cooled down.

In a matter of seconds, as my adrenaline wore off, my legs gave in and collapsed on the ground, taking Haruno down in the embrace with me. Completely exhausted and petrified, I simply held her in my arms, enjoying the warmth of her company. Then as if to reassure myself that she was indeed alive, I leaned in and placed my ear on the supple skin at the crook of her neck, listening to the soothing sound of air rushing through the trachea, and the rhythmic thumps of her heart coming from the carotid artery. It was almost a hypnotizing experience.

After a surprisingly lengthy period of fascination, a valve in myself suddenly opened. All of the emotions, sorrowful and euphoric, flooded and bombarded my mind. I wailed and howled harder than a child who had just lost his mother. I could have killed Haruno, the very last person I had, or more accurately, the last person I knew who _possibly_ even cared for me and hated me, unconscious on this couch. I stopped thinking about fabricating a half-baked apology. My mind bloated by the realization that I had just protected someone significant to me, using my own action.

She came all the way to find me, and possibly spent days carefully finding an excuse to invite me to a dinner. And her purpose, maybe she'd never personally admit it, was childishly simple. Yukinoshita Haruno, out of all the "riajuu", found herself lonely. I knew nothing about what she went through over the years until today. This sense of sorrow, combined with some long-lasting anger with Yukino's decision to leave, coupled by the knowledge of my recent appearance in a decent job post, greatly facilitated her anger. At first we remained composed, but after a few shots we found ourselves opening up and shouting profanity, cursing each other to perish in hundreds of different ways. Yet only two hours later, I cuddled her more intimately than lovers, listening to her heart beat.

I almost fell asleep hugging her, before something warm and wet snaked into my pants. Initially I thought she was having a nocturnal enuresis, it was understandable since she hadn't urinated a single time since her arrival at the restaurant. With that much drink consumed, it would only be a matter of time before she became incontinent. Just as I struggled to get up to find her a dry pair of pants, a foul smell invaded my nostril. I struggled hold back my laughter. Someone as perfect as Haruno, defecated in her pants. To my absolute honesty, though, it was adorable scenery.

Since what I had already done could almost guarantee ten years in jail, I decided to make Haruno a little bit more comfortable by going a step further. Tearing down her jeans, there was diarrhea all over. A huge amount of stool, all caked to the inside of her clothes and in between her buttocks and legs. The excrement, pardon my straightforwardness, looked like a layer of wet and sludgy black paint. Her black laced panties, almost indistinguishable from the thick coat of feces, was heavily soiled and rendered completely unusable. If I were to leave her in that state, many parts of her lower body would be in a serious state of infection before she could clean herself.

Flipping her limp body over so that she lied on the stomach, while keeping her mouth open and head tilted to the side, I cut off the last bit of fabric protecting her privacy with a pair of scissors. I used absolutely everything that I mustered to salvage from the apartment: buckets full of warm water, towels, baby wipes, and even shower gel to get the crap off of her body. Bathing her on the sofa sounded like a total hysterical idea, but the feeling was alien and exhilarating at the same time. I even went as far as putting some ointment on her...ugh...rectal opening and private parts to prevent a possible rash, both inside and out, with my finger. I had to admit that it was extremely erotic, especially when performing this on someone whom I frequently fantasized. Nevertheless,the absolute exhaustion successfully prevented me from doing anything irrational. I moved Haruno to my bed, stuffed her into a pair of my pajamas and covered her up under the quilt, completely ignoring the consequences. Before I started to get her into recovery position again; however, I concluded that instead of giving her a stiff neck tomorrow, it would be better to give up my nap entirely, and watch her rest in a natural pose.

As I slowly sank into a chair beside the bed, watching her sleeping soundly, perfectly unaware of the previous embarrassment, a satisfying grin slowly crept onto my face. Every part of me smelled identical to her waste matter, and I was laughing like an idiot. Accomplishment? Attachment? Neither. In fact, it felt more similar to the euphoria of finally finding something infinitely precious to me. The moment I set my eyes on Haruno again, I knew something had transpired within my mind, and it changed the way I perceived the meaning of life forever.

* * *

 _The end of chapter 1, and finally a solid 4500 words update! Took me a whole Sunday to finish this chapter. I know it got really graphic in the latter part, but I needed to find a way to express 8man's feeling toward Haruno. He didn't hate her, nor was he extremely fond of her. But in some unexpected ways, he found himself craving for her company._

 _I know some of you may be pissed off by what happened at the end, but it was my way of reflecting his state of mind. Remember, 8man did this after an extremely long period of solitude, and the knowledge of someone remembering him, even in a hateful manner was enough to make him lose his mind._

 _Please tell me how you find the story to be so far in the comments! Remember, your comments can always affect the outcome of the future chapters! Until next time!_


	4. placeholder

Sorry guys, I've finished the whole chapter 2, but later I found a huge plot hole in it. I had to go back and rewrite literally everything to make the story logically make sense. The revised version will be uploaded later this week


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